I think this one takes place before the first 4 chapters.
Lord knows what they get up to in London.
They don't get up to nearly enough, in Deryn's opinion. While the Zoological Society was filled with many delightful closets and dark corners, it's members were also too darn clever for the pair to make a habit of romantic trysts. And when not on missions, most of their time was spent with their bums planted in chairs reading and sorting paperwork in the little office off the side of Dr. Barlow's.
Today they are reviewing notes from the latest experiment in fabrication and rewriting them to include the recent annotations. Deryn's hand is beginning to cramp and she keeps noticing the way Alek drags his hand through his usually neat hair. For all it's promises of intrigue and subterfuge, the Society was still a scientific organization and they were the prized assistants of one of its most eminent boffins. That is to say, it could be pure dead tedious at times.
Still, sitting beside Alek everyday, stealing smiles and snickers at one another was more than she had ever dreamed of when she was deep in her crush aboard the Leviathan. But they were older now and all of London lay at their feet, if they could just manage to slip away from their chaperones and prying eyes.
For the moment they were alone, although the door was open and Dr. Lewis and his insufferable assistant Thomas could be heard just down the hall. Deryn nudges Alek's foot. His eyes flick to hers and he asks, "What do you want?" His tone is playful. He nudges her foot back.
"We worked through lunch and I'm starving," she replies. "If I have to write another word I'll eat this paper."
"But then you'd just have to copy the notes down again."
"Aye. That's why I'm hoping you'd help remedy it." Her boot travels farther up his leg and Alek holds her gaze with a studied nonchalance, but she can see his hand gripping his pen a little tighter.
"And what do you propose?" His voice is very level.
"Where do you think one could get a rootbeer float like the ones you were telling me about in America?" It was one of the things he described to her when she had been bound to her cabin by her injured knees, in between retelling The Perils of Pauline.
Alek laughs a little at her unexpected request. "Sadly I think they have remained in America." Deryn rubs her leg up and down his again, then it comes to rest hooked under his calf. Alek's ears turn scarlet.
"Pity," she says.
"Indeed, but I can think of an alternative." Alek takes a breath and looks as though he is screwing up the courage to say something. He blushes harder. "Volger won't be at the flat tonight." Before Deryn can muster up a response Alek explains, "He scavenged tickets to see an opera downtown. Something about 'needing to find a little culture of Vienna in this wretched city.' He won't be back until late."
Barking Spiders. A whole evening alone with Alek. She's about ready to giggle like some village lass but she hides it in a grin. "Alright, I reckon I can do without the rootbeer if you've got something to eat."
"If you do not require any assistance, Aleksander, I shall be taking my leave," says Volger as he adjusts his gloves and hat.
"Yes, I'm quite alright, Count. Enjoy the Opera." Alek looks up from the chair where he's been reading the newspaper and hopes that his face doesn't betray the jitters of excitement in his stomach.
The count opens the door of their shared flat and makes to leave, but pauses, "And where is Miss Sharp this evening?"
"She's still at the zoo. Something about an ill bat needing to be fed every couple of hours," Alek says casually, as if he hasn't been rehearsing it since this afternoon. He's gotten a little better at lying these days but the Count is sharp.
Volger arches an eyebrow; it's more than likely he'll confer with Dr. Barlow in the morning but by then there's no risk of interruption. What's at risk for interruption he's not quite sure. He has a couple ideas but really all he wants is time alone with Deryn, where he can call her by her own name and she can call him "love."
"Very well," says the Count, shaking Alek out his daze, and with a nod he leaves, shutting the door behind him. It seems like no more than ten minutes later he hears tapping at the window. He pulls back the curtain to reveal Deryn clinging to the windowsill, cheeks red and hair sticking every which way from the wind. He quickly unlatches the window and she scrambles inside.
"God's wounds, Deryn!" he exclaims as she stands up, cursing like a sailor and adjusting her jacket.
"Barking spiders I think I've gone well and truly soft!" she cries.
"I beg to differ," replies Alek. "You climbed up to the third story."
"I know I did and I'm glad I climbed up to the right flat; I dunno how I would have gone about explaining that to some poor neighbor."
Alek smiles softly and leans in for a peck on the lips. Her lips are icy from the winter air but the kiss warms him to the core. "Well I'm glad you found the right address," he says. "Can I take your coat?"
"Aye that'd be lovely." She unbuttons her jacket and passes it to him and then gets to work loosening her tie. She flops down on the small sofa and stretches out her knee with a sigh of relief.
Alek notices this. "Is it bothering you again?" he asks, meaning her knee. He hangs up her coat and moves to sit down beside her.
"No, It's just overworked is all. I walk too fast, I reckon." She swings her leg up to rest on Alek's lap and turns so that her back is against the armrest. Almost automatically he takes her leg in his hands and begins to rub the inflamed muscles and tendons around her knee.
"Or perhaps you've taken to climbing brick buildings," he suggests.
"Aye, perhaps," she smiles. "But it's better than the landlady taking notes."
Feeling rather bold, he lets his hand on her knee wander farther up her leg and rests it on her thigh. She places her hand atop of his. A question. They're no stranger to dizzying minutes spent in coat closets and empty offices.
"Well I reckon my knee's feeling much better now," she says softly. He's got that daft look in his eyes and, blisters, it makes her pure dead moony. She urges herself to focus, she's an airman after all! Two can play this game. "The thing is," she begins, "I've got this crick in my neck— from all the paperwork, you see!"
The daft look turns devious. "Ah I see," he says, sliding her leg off his lap to scoot closer to her. He leans in and finds the soft spot just below her ear and plants a soft kiss there. She sighs a very unsoliderly sigh. But she's not a soldier anymore— she may be a zookeeper turned spy and a boy to most everyone in London, but when she's with Alek she's simply... Deryn. Alek's lips travel south just above her shirt color and she melts.
That is until her stomach lets out a growl that could rival any tigeresque.
Alek stops kissing her and laughs. Deryn resists the urge to punch him. "You did promise me a meal out of this, I recall," and she can't help but crack a smile too.